B3RK
by araconos
Summary: Bio-region level 3, region kronos. Known to its inhabitants as Berk. Hiccup is a shame to his father, who is ruler of their small colony. Scarred from a childhood accident, he vows to make himself worthy of his family name in the most daring way possible: Killing a Night Fury. Steampunk/Sci-fi HTTYD. Rated T for violence.
1. Chapter 1

"Hiccup! Astrid's here for repairs. Something about tha' bolt on her rifle being jammed." The boy sighed, setting aside his current project - a replacement prosthetic hand for one of the men who had lost his last raid - moving to the window where they took requests. He pushed aside some scraps of metal that scattered the floor, sighing yet again.

"If she'd stop friggin' using the rifle as a pistol and trying to free-scope it, we wouldn't have this problem." He mumbled as he pushed aside some cartidges of ammo, then leaned out the window. "Mornin' Astrid."

The blonde didn't reply, simply dropping the rifle on the counter. "I need it done by tonight. Scouts reported activity to the south, so we've got a raid soon." Without even another word or meeting his gaze, she turned and walked down the road.

"Yeah, nice to see you, too!" Hiccup said sarcastically, picking up the heavy rifle - not without struggle. "How does she lift this thing one-armed?" He said, groaning as he carried it through the shop before setting it on his workbench.

Hiccup had been working as Gobber's assistant in the shop for almost seven years now, starting when he had turned eight. Although he was more of Gobber's partner now - Hiccup himself did the majority of the delicate and more complex work, leaving Gobber to the production of larger things, such as mass amount of ammunition and molding the parts for the weapons.

The reason for Hiccups transfer to the forge was obvious. As the son of the Chief, he would have been expected to grow into a fearsome warrior, capable of carrying on the families honor. However, he had always been rather scrawny, more suited to running and building than swinging swords or shooting rifles.

Then there was the more obvious reason - his hand, or, well, lack of one. When he was eight, he had attempted to join his father in a raid in an attempt to impress him. The young boy had received a Nadder spike to his left arm for his folly, forcing the village herbalist to amputate it in order to keep the poison from spreading.

From the left shoulder down, Hiccup was a machine. His arm, an extremely expensive and complex machine of his own design, was made of lightweight titanum and had well over a thousand moving parts. Most people were rather creeped out by the sight of an arm that looked as if it had a mind of its own, so he usually wore a jacket and dragon-scale gloves when he was outside. However, here in the shop, the mechanized limb came in handy - especially seeing as Hiccup had made some... modifications to it. Whats the point of being a mechanic if you can't make your own prosthetic tricked out?

Gobber looked over from his workbench with a snort, eyeing Hiccup from the corner of his gaze. "She can mos' likely lift it one armed because she's not a twig like you are. Ya need some meat on those bones, boy." Hiccup waved him away with one hand, then wiped his brow.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it. Everyone else in town is a viking, im just... This." He said, waving his hand over his body. "Every time I tell her to stop shooting like that, and every time she just says 'I know what I'm doing' or just walks off." He thumped down into his chair, groaning. "One day its going to snap in the middle of a fight, and then she's in trouble."

Gobber just laughed. "Astrid does know what she's doing, son. And even if it does snap in the middle of a fight, she's handy enough with that axe of hers that it won't be a bother to her." Hiccup begrudging nodded.

Astrids rifle was one of Hiccups favorite designs. He had given her an unconventional, but effective. The barrel of the rifle was nearly a foot and a half long, with a six-by-four silencing box on the end, to muffle the sound of it firing. There was no flash, however - something he was immensely proud of.

The body of the rifle was shaped as you would expect - about a foot long, melding into a rubber padded stock. The whole thing from the suppressor to the stock was four feet long.

When he had presented it to astrid at her fourteenth birthday, the day she had decided to become a sheild maiden - as if she would ever be a simple caretaker. Many people, unsure of what her choice would be, had simply given her clothing or coins. Her closest friends, however, had known without a doubt what her choice would be.

Ruffnut and Tuffnut had pooled together money to buy her the axe that she still used today. Snotlout had given her a set of armor that his mother used to wear when she was a teen. Hiccup, however, gave her the first weapon he had ever made.

He smiled as he recalled her reaction when she had opened the case that went with it. She had sprung up and given him a hug, then grinned as he described how it worked and how it was different from other rifles.

"It uses specially made projectiles, capable of peircing through armor from over a mile away." He pulled out one of the projectiles from her pocket, tossing it to her. "It's like an arrow, kind of. Its sharpened at the end, because it doesnt have the same force as a normal bullet. But the rifle makes up for that. It has no flash, produces no recoil, and can hold nearly four hundred shots in a single clip. It's bolt action, and uses no gunpowder either."

The rifle was pretty much an extremely powerful crossbow, he explained. The bolt activated the mechanism that pulled back the cord, as well as loading another shot into the barrel. The scope mounted on the rail atop the rifle was the strongest he could find, capable of counting the hairs on a squirrel a mile away. She had loved it the second she first fired it, and commissions for similar weapons had poured in once she had started using it.

Hiccups smile faded as he recalled that that was the last time Astrid had so much as met his gaze. Shortly after that, she had begun to hang out with the other members of the group, pretty much cutting the useless Hiccup off. Fighters didn't make friends with forge masters.

Hiccup sighed, standing up from the chair. He fixed the bolt with ease - he just had to re-align the slide with the barrel, same as usual - and completed the prosthetic arm that he was working on before.

The rusty-haired teen stood from his workshop once his projects for the day were done, walking over to the welding station where Gobber was currently welding together two halves of a sword that had snapped last raid. Instead of conventional welding equipment, he was using the multi-purpose prosthetic hand. Which Hiccup had made.

As Hiccup approached, Gobber flicked up his mask, peering at the boy. "I s'pose you'll be takin the rest o' the day off to work on your project, I bet?" Hiccup nodded, and Gobber just shook his head before flicking the mask back down. "Well, off with ye'. I'm not one to encourage you're fool mission, but I can't stop ya."

As Hiccup turned to head to his house, he heard Gobber mumble under his breath. "Catchin' a Night Fury. What a fool."

(((((()))))

Hiccup had fallen asleep in his bed, the anxiety of the coming attack wearying him. It was nearly two in the morning before the klaxxon went off, startling the boy into awakeness. "Friggin lizards have the shittiest sense of timing. I spend eight hours waiting, and they decide to attack a half hour after I fall asleep." He rushed to the corner of his room, picking up a bundle of aluminum and fabric from his desk.

Snagging an apple on his way out, he bit into it as he pushed the steel door open. As a precaution, he quickly slammed the door closed, then waited five seconds. It was a good thing he did - moments after he opened the door there was a massive 'thud' that shook the house as something slamming into the door. He quickly pushed open the door, peeking out to look at the would - be attacker.

A large red Monstrous Nightmare was on the ground below him, its brains quite clearly scattered by the impact. Nightmares had thermal vision, allowing them to see the heat signatures of people through their shelters. Fishlegs - Hiccups only remaining friend - hypothethised that it was so they could find their mates over long distances. Seeing as Nightmares had the tendency to set themselves aflame, he was probably right.

He quickly jumped over the long neck of the dazed dragon, which began to regain its senses rather quickly. However, instead of rearing up to rejoin the fight as Hiccup expected it to, it instead flew to the south, away from the direction the dragons attacked from.

He watched the dragon fly away from the fight and its home for a few second, puzzled, then shook his head. Its sense of direction must have been muddled after the attack, or something of the sort.

He ran up the mountain that his house rested up against, carrying the bundle of rods and fabric under his arm. When he reached his destination, he was out of breath and had to rest on a rock, looking down at the town before him.

The battleground was a mess. The bards sung of a time where wars were clean and honorable, but that was against human opponents. Dragons had no battle lines, no strategy, no leaders that they could discern. They attacked at random, stealing supplies of food - mostly sheep, but sometimes grain and even cabbage if given the chance.

Many sections of the town were ablaze, the wooden homes burning. His house was the only house that was made of metal, seeing as the chief was the only one who kept important documents in his house.

If Hiccup had a pair of binoculars, he wagered that he could see Astrid in the center of the action, free-scoping her rifle. That afternoon she had come to pick up the rifle, lifting it up with her right arm, peering through the scope at a target in the distance they had for that very purpose. She had fired a shot, then pulled back on the bolt with her left hand, wrenching the bolt to the side. In the exact way that Hiccup had told her not to. If she had centered it on her shoulder, using it like a rifle instead of mounting on her forearm like a pistol or SMG, she wouldn't be having this problem.

Hiccup sighed, then moved to set up his contraption. "Gotta get set up before the alarm goes off." He began, mumbling to himself, but as he said so a low note rang out through the town.

Cries began to spring up from around the town, rising up to his ears over the clamor of the battle. "Night Fury!"

Hiccup began to move with haste, setting up the tripod legs of his building. He stomped on the spikes that secured the legs to the ground, then grabbed onto the handles mounted on the rear.

The contraption was a net cannon, which the people of Berk were used to using. They had to capture and study dragons somehow. However, this cannon was far more powerful than any they had ever used.

"Trial twelve, raid number seven." Hiccup mumbled as he peered through the scope. A high pitched whistle began to sound through the air, and the people below him jumped on the ground, covering their heads with their hands. In the middle of a fight normal, this would have been suicide. But as the whistling sound became louder and more high pitched, even the dragons fled the area, hovering up above the town like vultures.

The whistling grew to a louder, ear-piercing creshendo as Hiccup hurriedly pulled back various levers on the sides of the cannon. Suddenly, his eyes were drawn to the town as the whistle turned into a screech, and a massive boom sounded. A blue flash appeared as the Night Fury blasted past the barn, where they hid the sheep during raids. The blue light formed into a disc as it blew the roof of the barn to bits, the explosion shattering titanium and reinforced steel like a stone through a window.

The townspeople jumped to their feet, knowing they had a few minutes to regroup before the Night Fury struck again. To reasons unknown to the people of Berk, the Night Fury only attacked the three most important buildings when it showed up during raids - the Storehouse, the Barn, and the Granary. If it attacked more places than those three, their odds of surviving more than two or three raids was slim. They had never seen the Fury itself, but its handiwork spoke of a monstrous creature born of nightmares.

The hovering dragons descended upon the now-defenseless barn, snatching swine and sheep in their claws and fleeing to their Northern home. They snatched from the building freely for a few minutes, until the vikings managed to set up a perimeter around the broken building, chasing off the dragons.

Hiccup, his device now ready to fire, peered through the sights of his cannon nervously. The Night Fury attacked the three places, but not in a set order. So, to his regret, he had to wait for the third attack to begin before he knew where the Fury would strike.

The militia, now re-grouped, set into a steady, practiced rhythm. Half of them stayed at the barn, defending the animals that resided within. The other half mobilized and prepared to defend the site of the next attack, forming into a loose group. Attacks by the Night Fury were rare - it came maybe once every five raids, at random intervals, always keeping the vikings off balance.

The whistling returned, but the dragons and people skirmishing around the Barn continued fighting. All the others, however, jumped down to the ground or flew out of the blast radius.

The side wall of the Storehouse collapsed with a massive boom, revealing the meat and supplies that had been hidden safely moments before. The Inn was still about a quarter mile away from hiccup, but he was still rocked back on his heels from the massive shockwave the attack produced.

Hurriedly, he pointed the barrel of his cannon towards the Granary, then activated the program he had designed. The sights of his contraption came to life, clicking and whirring as the screen showed an enhanced image of the sky above the town, bathing everything in a green glow.

"C'mon, C'mon..." Hiccup mumbled anxiously, turning the massive cannon from side to side, scanning for his quarry. Doubts filled his mind, as they always did. What if the Fury attacked someplace else this time, instead of the usual spots? What if he missed and damaged one of the buildings?

He shook his head, trying to chase the doubts away. The whistling began again, and there was a frantic beeping from his machine. He glanced down at the screen, smiling as he saw his target outlined in a red circle. The machine began programming and figuring where he would have to fire in order to hit his target, factoring the in estimated speed of the drake and numerous other calculations.

Hiccup and Fishlegs hypothethised that the massive boom they heard during each attack was actually the sound of the Night Fury breaking the sound barrier, seeing as no actual projectile was fired. After several failed attempts and one false alarm - he had managed to confuse a Nadder with the Night Fury, whoops - he thought he had finally programmed the cannon properly.

The whistling began to reach its high point, and Hiccup tracked the form of the black dragon as it sped towards its target. "Dammit, you piece of junk, lock on!" he nearly shouted, staring at the screen as it tried to find the proper course.

The whistling increased to the scream that signaled that the attack was only seconds away, and the people in the town below hit the dirt, the dragons flapping out of the blast zone.

Just as the dragon prepared to fire, the red targeting disc turning white as it locked on. Hiccup immediately pressed the triggers on the top of the handles, wincing as the recoil of the cannon rocked him back. The whistle cut off, the blue shot missing its target and imploding mid-air. A loud, low pitched moan filled the air, and the people and dragons looked up, confused. Suddenly, every dragon on the island let out a roar, lifting off and fleeing to the north.

The stunned townspeople looked around, as if they expected the dragons to return at any moment. But as they kept watching, the drakes flew into the cloudless night, dissapearing over the horizon.

A raspy roar rang out over the town as the vikings realized that they had won the night, even though it had been more unusual victory. None of them were as proud as Hiccup.

"I... I caught the Night Fury. I caught the Night Fury!" He whispered, his shocked expression turning to a grin. "I did it! They're not going to believe that I, Hiccup the Useless, the one-armed weakling beat the Night Fury!" He whooped, then his grin faded slightly as he realized what he said. "They're not going to believe it unless I... aw shit. Find it."

Hiccup groaned, then headed down the mountain to find his prey. The rest of the town set to rebuilding what had been ruined in the attack, but within the hour, they were celebrating and recounting battle stories.

But come dawn, when the town had gone back to its slumber from the hectic night before, Hiccup was nowhere to be found.

**(((((())))))**

**Shh. Shh. Shhhhhh.**

**I wanted to write this. So I did. Deal with it.**

**Im not abandoning any of my other stories, I just wanted to start a new one. So. If you all enjoyed Steam-punk HTTYD, let me know. Im not sure if I should continue this one or not, but leave a review and tell me if you like it or not!**

**Anyways. I'll update the stories whenever I get the inspiration to do so, which should be pretty soon. Im halfway through the next chapter of Fractals.**

**Love Y'all!**

**Arac.**


	2. Chapter 2

The branches and twigs along the path cut into Hiccup's jacket and trousers, leaving small scratches and scrapes. He winced as one particularly thorny branch left a line of red on the back of his hand, and he sighed as he plucked the splinter out of the cut.

He was currently tracking what he thought was his best lead onto where the dragon had crash-landed. He had found a single black scale along the forest floor, as well as a few splintered and broken branches that littered the ground. He was out of breath and tired of hiking through these Thor-forsaken woods.

Finally, however, his hours of hiking paid off. As he crested a hill, tired and out of breath, he saw a massive scar carved in the land, as if something had smashed into it at high speed. Suddenly no longer tired, he sprinted down the other side of the hill, stumbling over a few exposed roots and falling into the trench. As he picked himself up, brushing the dirt off of his knees, he noticed another black scale, similar to the one he had found earlier. Further down the trench, there were more scales, as well as threads of titanium fibers.

The trench extended over the course of a quarter mile, and when he followed it to its end, he found a massive black shape struggling on the hill below him. He froze in his tracks, suddenly unsure of what to do. He _had_ captured the Night Fury, but... what do you do with a captured Night Fury?

The dragon was about twice his size from snout to tail, and it thrashed in the silvery net it was trapped in. Its pearly white teeth tugged at the netting, to no avail. Hiccup went to make his way down the slope, when his booted, clumsy feet snapped a branch.

The Night Fury instantly snapped to attention, ceasing its struggles instantly. Narrowed, green eyes focused on the approaching boy, and the mouth closed as it let out a snarl. Hiccup stumbled back a few steps as the drake struggled against the netting, but then it let out what sounded somewhat like a sigh. To his surprise, the dragon stopped struggling and laid limp in its prison.

Hiccup slowly approached the dragon, drawing his knife as he did so. The black, cat-like ears of the dragon shifted, flicking up as it heard the hiss of metal on leather, but the eyes didn't open.

Hiccup transferred the knife to his left hand - if this was a trap, he'd rather not lose another limb. He approached cautiously, his body shaking but his mechanic arm remaining perfectly still and balanced despite his fear.

Here was his chance to be a hero. His chance to go down in lore as the only human over the course of twenty generations to capture and kill a Night Fury! Songs would be sung in his name, Astrid and his former friends would have to recognize him again. His father would be proud of him, finally, and maybe he would be able to become chief.

He took another step forward. Another, then another. He was now within striking distance of the Night Fury - if it was going to attack, now would be the time. But the drake just laid there, its chest rising and falling as it took it breathed. For a few seconds, he stood there, ready to spring back, but then the dragon turned to him and opened its eyes.

Those green eyes were gigantic, easily the size of dinner plates. But the pupils were no longer narrowed into slits as they were before, but instead wide and took up most of the space of his eyes. It was a he, Hiccup noted. It looked him up and down, then sighed and laid its head back down against the ground, as if disappointed.

"Yeah, done in by a wimp like me. Embarrassing, I know." Those black ears flicked again, but other than that there was no movement. Hiccup took a few more paces forward, holding the knife out, and the dragon made no movement but to tilt its head back. It was if it was accepting its fate, like a proud warrior - like a viking.

Hiccup stood there for a few moments, then grabbed the knife in both hands. This dragon, this majestic beast, was braver than he. It knew that death was certain, but he didn't shirk or hide from it.

One black eye lid opened, peering at him, as if daring him to continue. Hiccup took a deep breath, then brought the knife down.

The sharpened knife cut through the titanium net as if it were warm butter. In a few moments, the net was in shambles, and it fell to the ground around the dragon. Hiccup took a few paces back as the drake stood, rising to its feet, and pointed to the North with his knife.

"Go! Get out of here." He said, stammering as he did so. What the hell was he thinking? Setting free a dragon, a Night Fury no less? He truly was a fool. Any moment now, the drake would turn on him, and he would have finally shown the world how foolish he was.

He took a few steps back as the dragon pulled itself free of what remained of the net, then extended its wings. It hissed at him, obviously confused - what a fool he was. It prowled forward, a shadow come to life, and Hiccup stumbled backwards, his boot snagging on a root. He looked behind him for a split second, and when he looked back it was upon him.

The wall of muscle and scale shoved him into the ground, and he winced as his head slammed against the ground. _This is it. This is where I die._ He could feel the hot breath against his cheek, and he closed his eyes, ready to feel those jaws upon him any moment. After a few seconds of nothing happening, however, he cracked one eye open, mirroring the exchange they had had just previously.

The dragon sat with its forelegs on his shoulders, its large green eyes peering at him. As he looked up at it, raising an eyebrow in confusion, it opened its mouth in what was almost a smile, cocking its head to the side.

Hiccup stared at the pink gums in confusion. "I thought you had teeth?" He said, blinking slowly. In a flash, the white fangs extended from the gums and snapped just inches from his nose. He flinched back, and the dragon jumped off of him, letting out a low gurgle that was obviously a laugh.

Hiccup sat up, scooting back until his back pressed against the wall of the dirt trench. The dragon sat back on its haunches, cocking its head to the side and watching him with those huge green eyes.

Suddenly, the dragon coughed, and Hiccup jerked back. Its shoulders shook, and it hunched over as it hacked something up.

"Oh, gross." Hiccup said, standing up as the dragon vomited. "Thats disgusting." The dragon finally coughed up a black object, and then licked the saliva off of it with its tongue. That task finished, it sat back on its haunches, its eyes suddenly a lot less playful and a lot more serious. It looked from the black object at its feet to him, then back again.

Hiccup took a tentative step forward, still convinced that that drake was just setting up a trap to kill him. After a few steps, however, the dragon just yawned and slitted its eyes, and he looked down at the object.

It was a black gem, rounded and shaped into a sphere. It was about the size of a clenched fist - his fist, not a massive viking one. After a few moments of looking at it, the dragon huffed and knelt down, pushing it across the ground towards him.

"You seriously don't want me to have that, do you?" He said, now mostly convinced that it wasn't planning on attacking him. The dragon pushed it again, sending it rolling until it bumped against his boot, then sat back on its haunches. He pulled off the glove on his left hand, reaching down to pick up the orb.

The sensors on his fingertips told him that the gem was perfectly smooth, and mostly dry. He rolled it in his palm, applying a little tension on it - it had the same strength and density of a diamond.

The dragon nodded its head to him, bowing for three seconds. Then, without fanfare, it turned and leapt into the air, flapping three times to get above the tree line. It looked over its shoulder once, then continued on its way.

Hiccup watched it fly to the south side of the island, and then looked down at the orb in his hand. He rolled it in his palm a bit more, then took of the glove to his natural hand. He tossed up in the air, and caught it in his right hand -

And suddenly he was in the air, muscles he didn't have flexing wings he didn't have. He gasped, and a roar came out. His tail - he had a tail? - whipped and hit a tree below him, and there was a massive pain at the very end of it. He felt himself losing balance, falling to the ground, and suddenly he

_He was the soft-skin two legs, kneeling at the torn-ground with the heart-soul-mind stone in his hand. He felt the warm blood through his veins, the strange coldness at his left paw. He could feel the softness of the dirt between his strange dull-five-claws, the wind on his scaleless flesh, but then it twisted and he_

Was falling yet again, the surface of the small lake below coming up to meet him, desperately trying to regain his balance, but his tail-fin wasn't working, wasn't letting him turn as it should, and then all was darkness as the water rose up to grab him.

Hiccup gasped, the orb rolling out of his hand and onto the dirt floor. His breath came in ragged gasps, and he could feel his heart pumping the fastest it had ever gone.

"The _fuck_ was that?" He said aloud, looking around. He looked at his feet, at the smoky black orb that rested against the ground below him. The sun rose up over the treetops in his small clearing, and he noted that the orb didn't shine.

He bent down slowly, tentatively reaching out with his left hand to pick it up. Nothing happened when he touched it with his metal fingers, so he grabbed it and raised it up to his eye level.

It really was pitch black. He knew that he should see his reflection in the surface of the orb, but he saw nothing. It seemed to suck the light into it and absorb it, as if it were a black hole. He rolled it in the palm of his cyborg arm, then slowly reached out the index finger of his human hand. He took a deep breath, then touched his finger to the side of the orb and then he

_was wet, shivering cold as he pulled himself out of the lake, staring up at the stone walls around him. He looked back at his tail, and with a sickening lurch he realized he would never fly again, that he was_

"...Crippled." Hiccup said, pulling back from the orb. He stared at it for a moment, then placed it into a leather patch at his waist and turning to go back to the village, knowing for sure that something had changed drastically that day.

For better or worse, he did not know. But something had changed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Out with the old, In with the new! Chapter 3 sucked, so I changed it. Hope it makes some sense.**

**(((((())))))**

The journey home was a confusing and silent one for Hiccup Haddock. Dawn had crested hours ago, and most of the people in the town were asleep in their beds. Hiccup walked slowly - a sleepless night and the weight of a million thoughts slowed him down. The black sphere the Night Fury had given him was in a pouch hanging from his pocket, and he resisted the urge to take it out and look at it again. Not that he was afraid of being seen with it - Hiccup the Useless could stare at as many pebbles as he wanted, and people would just chalk it up to him being eccentric.

Few people were out at this time, and most of them only spared the boy a cursory glance. He must have looked a sight - his hair mussed up, clothing torn and scratched, twigs and mud stuck to his body from his tumble in the forest. Hiccup paid their attention no heed, lost in his thoughts.

_I didn't kill it. _He thought, still stupefied by his actions. _I had a _night fury _at my mercy - one of the most dangerous and rare dragons known to man. Trapped in a net, knife in my hands, and I not only didn't kill it - I let it go._

He looked up as he entered the village square, glancing around to catch his bearings. The buildings around him were mostly fixed - say what you will about vikings, but they know how to fix a house. Building one to withstand dragons seemed to be out of their reach, but fixing one? Easy.

As he turned to walk up the hill to his house, he heard muttering from the side. "...shame Stoicks' son couldn't be normal. Rather than fighting like a real viking, he hid in the woods - and still managed to lose the fight." The were dark chuckles, and the boy sighed. He knew who it was.

Snotlout was once one of Hiccups closest friends. Years spent at different social standings, however, had taught the muscled older boy something Hiccup wished wasn't true. Snotlout wasn't a very charismatic leader, or a very intelligent one for that matter. But he had discovered that by putting others down, he could lift himself up.

None of the adults seemed to care about Hiccups ritual torture, teasing and - occasionally - beatings at the hand of Snotlout, Tuffnut and their heavily-muscled friends. That wasn't the viking way. Hiccup had to either be strong enough to stop them - or strong enough to endure.

Granted, Hiccups sense of stubbornness and honor didn't allow him to take the beatings lying down - Snotlout had found himself at the end of many pranks, traps and practical jokes over the years. The beatings and teasing had mostly stopped once Snotlout managed to realize that the boy he picked on was also the boy the entire community relied upon for weapons - if Hiccup so wished, he could rig Snotlouts equipment to misfire or even malfunction during a raid. The beatings and teasing had - mostly - stopped. But the older boy still used Hiccup as the butt of most of his jokes.

Hiccup simply ignored the boys as he walked by, and they returned back to repairing the roof as they were before they spotted him.

_They're right. I'm not a real viking. _He thought, grimacing. _A rea viking would had brought the knife as soon as he had a chance, no hesitation. Not only did I hesitate - I released it. _He trudged u the hill, his thoughts turnign to the pouch on his belt. _But... it didn't kill me. It didn't even injure me - in fact, it gave me... something. _For a moment, he was tempted to bring the sphere out again. But simpyl thinking about the disorientation he had suffered the alst time he touched it gave him shivers.

_We... shared minds, for a moment. _Hiccup realized with a start, stopping in his tracks. _We saw through each others eyes, as if we... we shared bodies. _The thought gave him a shiver. What if he had been trapped in the body of a dragon? _Thats one was to rebel against my dad for sure_ He thought wryly, continuing his walk up the hill to his house. _He'd kill me on sight..._

"Why do we kill each other?" He asked aloud, running his metal hand through his hair. "I didnt kill him, so he didn't kill me. Has no one even tried pacifism once?" Of course not. They were vikings, after all - aggression was hardwired into their blood, and after seven generations of dragon attacks, ending the war with peace seemed to be something they couldn't even contemplate.

_How did it start then? _He wondered, his boots grinding gravel under his feet. Grimly, he put himself into the position of one of the first settlers on the planet. Barely there for a week, still in the midst of building homes, when suddenly a swarm of creatures resembling monsters of old descended from the sky. Hiccup wouldn't blame someone for attempting to defend themselves, even if the dragons weren't hostile. Self defense begot self sefense - _an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth until the whole world is hungry and blind._ He thought with dark amusement.

Hiccup put his thoughts to the side as he approached the strangley shaped door of his house. The door itself weighed well over six tons, and was twice as tall as his father was. It was perfecly balanced on hydraulic hinges - Hiccups own design - and slid out without a sound as he opened it. Six tons of indestructible Adamantium, and not a took his boots off, resting them by the door, and walked on stockinged feet, trying not to make a sound. His glances around showed no sound of life, and he sighed as he slid the door closed with a soft clicking sound. His father must already be asleep -

"And where have you been, boy?" A gruff voice asked from behind him, and he sighed - once his heart started beating again.

Or maybe hiding in the shadows like a villain in an old sci-fi movie.

Hiccup turned slowly, hands behind his back. "Uhm. Hi, dad." Stoick glared down over his mass of facial hair, and Hiccup could _feel_ the disapproval in his gaze. He stared at his son for a long moment, then sat down in small wooden chair. It groaned as he sat in it, barely holding his massive bulk.

"Where have you been? Out larking in the forest again, chasing after myths?" Hiccup groaned internally. "Gobber needed you in the forge last night. Not trying to catch a _Night Fury_, for Odins sake!" Hiccup walked past his father, heading to the fridge, grabbing a loaf of bread and breaking it in half, munching on it as he grabbed a late breakfast. Or dinner. Or whatever.

"W'sn't catching a Nih' Fury" He mumbled through the food, and Stoick sighed. "I was checking on a new aerial defense unit, thank you very much." Stoick scowled.

"Well. I guessing you wont mind if I throw his hunk of metal Gothi found by her cabin off the cliff then?" Stoick asked, nudging a metal object with his foot. Hiccup grimaced as he recognized his net cannon. "So. Not only did you think you could capture a Night Fury - you abandoned the fight to chase after it alone, and then came back empty handed - and then dared to lie to me about your failure?" Stoick said, standing up from his chair, towering over his son.

Hiccup may not have inherited his father's size - but he inherited his temperament. Rather than backing down from his father, he stood tall, meeting his gaze.

"Berk is dying, Dad. We aren't rated safe enough to get new settlers, and we aren't important enough to get a new defense system for another decade. Someone has to do something to help stop the attacks -"

"And you think that _catching_ a _Night Fury_ will help with that?" Stoick said, scoffing.

"We would win these fights if it wasn't for the Night Fury! Now that it's - When it's not attacking us anymore, the rest of the dragons won't be able to break our lines of defense." He bit his tongue, but Stoick didn't notice his slip-up.

"Hiccup, you need to make yourself useful." Stoick began, but his son cut him off.

"So you're saying I'm useless now, is that it?" Hiccup spat out, glaring up at his father.

"No! That's not what I... Can't you see this wont work? We fight the dragons because thats what we have learned to do. Shield walls, rifles and cannons - not nets and ropes."

Hiccup scowled. "Your 'tried and true' methods aren't working, dad. Berk is dying - not just the town, but the whole planet. We make millions - when the work crews can get down here. Which they can't, if the dragons keep attacking. Your methods are old and outdated."

"My methods are protecting my family!" Stoick shouted, slamming his fist down onto the table. Hiccup turned and walked to the stairs.

"They sure worked for mom." He muttered quietly.

Stoick fell silent, slowly slumping into his chair.

A wave of guilt rushed over Hiccup, and he turned back to apologize, but stopped when he saw the hurt on Stoicks face. No amount of apologizing would recover for the words he had said.

Hiccup sighed, then went up the stairs into his room.

Stoick remained seated in the chair for a long, long time.

(((((())))))

Hiccup flopped onto his bed, groaning loudly. Something clanked against the knife at his belt, and he frowned and looked down, remembering the reason he had been out in the woods that morning.

The small leather pouch had slipped slightly open, revealing the smooth stone within. Hiccups scowl softened as he took the pouch and opened it, taking the small orb in his metallic hand. The sensors on his 'hand' told him the same as they had earlier - smooth to the touch and hard as diamonds. A small overlay on his left eye told him that the computer in his hand couldn't tell what the object was made of, but could weigh it to the nanogram and tell him the exact volume of it.

"But what is it?" He asked aloud, holding it above him in his hand as he laid on the bed. He let the orb hang between his thumb and forefinger. If it was a crystal of any sort, it would have shone in the light, but the material seemed to suck the light in from around it. It was like... he had a pocket of nonexistance in his hand. Or, well, had in his hand - because at that moment he lost his grip on the orb and it fell down, hitting him in the face.

_Claws bleeding as he examined the wall, covered in scratches. Shoulder and wing sprained from the fall. Scales and dark blue blood covered the ground, and -_

The ball rolled off of his face, landing on the bed beside him. Hiccup found himself on his bed, his heart beating like a war drum. It had happened again.

"...Ow." He said, grabbing the orb again in his metal hand, careful not to let any skin touch it. With his other hand, he rubbed his sore nose, then sat up on the bed.

"What did he call this earlier... Mind-soul-heart stone? Do all dragons have one?" Hiccup stared at it, his heart rate slowing to a steady rhythm. "Heartstone. That's what I'll call it. But why would dragons have one? To give to... mates?" For a moment, Hiccup was incredibly uncomfortable at the thought, but he shuddered and put it aside. "Or dragons they trust? Why would they even have one..?"

Well, there was only one way to find out. Hiccup stared into the inky depth of the stone, then slowly reached out with his organic hand. When his fingers were inches from the surface, he hesitated. Then, grimacing, he reached out and grabbed in in the palm of his hand, wrapping his fingers around it.

For a moment, nothing happened. Hiccup frowned, lifting the ball up, looking at it from another angle. It was so strange, the way it held no light, but yet seemed so deep -

_Pain, pain pain - head warping as he stumbled to the side, legs unable to hold him as they spasmed, mind like hot steel on an anvil... Anvil? -_

And Hiccup dropped the heart-mind-soul stone, flesh-paws unable to hold it, but it was too late, the Glaring had begun, and he vomited onto the floor, the pain almost too much to bear -

_Muscles tightening, eyes tingling like the fires of Hel itself, feeling his skin tighten- no, his body grow, skin growing to contain it, head narrowing, wings growing longer, wider, heavier, muscles growing to accommodate the new weight- _

The orb faded into wisps of mist, pulling themselves onto Hiccup, bringing fire where they landed, and He stumbled like an egg-broken hatchling, suddenly able to feel the grain of the wood beneath his fingers, hear his heart beating against his ribs, smell his sweat and the vomit on the floor -

_His spine cracked and twisted like a whip, throwing him to the side, breaking his wing, and then his tail was aflame, the missing fin burning like damnation itself -_

His back began to tickle, then split, feeling the press of new scales as they grew, and he watched as his flesh- twisted and darkened, and he suddenly fell into

_...darkness._

(((((())))))

When Hiccup woke, the sky was dark. He was lying on the floor, his back aching after hours of sleeping on the hard wood. He groaned, pressing his metal arm against his head, the touch of cool metal bringing some solace to him. He sat up, groaning again, and reached out for his bed with his other hand, going to pull himself up. "What the Hel just happened?" He mumbled, opening his eyes to look around the room. He noticed that the lights had dimmed for sleep mode - was it ten at night already? - and the vomit on the floor had been cleaned by the vacuum-bot. His eyes caught something else, however, and he fell out of his crouch and back onto the floor.

His hand was... wrong. The organic one, that is. It reminded him of a burned slab of meat that had fallen into the fire, or a tree stuck by lightning. It was black, but after a second of staring at it, horrified, he noticed that what he had mistaken for a burn was, infact, something worse.

Scales. The same shade of color as the Night Fury... He pulled down the sleeve of his jacket, eyes widening in shock as he saw the small black marks run in overlapping rivulets down his arm, fading back to normal flesh before reaching his elbow.

He wiggled his fingers a little, and the demonic limb moved as he commanded. He clenched his fist, and surprised himself as his hand slammed closed, faster than he expected. He could feel everything perfectly, as if his hand was as it were before, but it was... wrong. So very wrong.

He lifted the hand towards him, examining it closer. It was exactly the same as it were before, but black and scaly. As if he had become part... Dragon.

He stood up hurriedly, rushing to the mirror in the corner of his room. He sighed in relief as he saw his face - no scales there. But, something had changed. Nothing drastic - he still had his mop of reddish hair and his green eyes. But his face was... harsher, more angular. The baby fat he had carried for years had faded, showing the bones beneath. He hand his scaled hand over his face, then stopped when he realized he could feel the texture of the scales against his face. His jaw fell open, and then fell farther as he saw his teeth - or, well, two of them.

His canines had increased in size, but only a small amount. However, they were much sharper than they were before. Hiccup was reminded of the old tales of vampires, but he knew that this was much worse than any fairy tale.

Remembering the pain on his back before he passed out, he quickly took of his shirt, turning his back to the mirror. A line of thick black scales ran down his back, right over his spine, then spreaded out into smaller black ones, until they became as small as chain-mail links. His entire upper back was covered in scales, and with shaking hands he turned back to the mirror.

He was muscular, he realized with a shock. Not the muscles of Snotlout or Stoick, but sleek, wiry lines, like those of a large cat - a jaguar or something.

Hiccup remembered the orb after staring at himself in the mirror for almost an hour, quickly turning to to floor, looking for it. But, after a few minutes of searching, he had no luck in looking for it. He vaguely recalled the orb turning to smoke and sinking into his skin, or some such nonsense.

Then he saw his hand again, and remembered that nonsense had done quite a bit to him already.

Worried, confused and terrified, he sat on the edge of his bed.

"So. Lets go over the events of the day, shall we?" He held out his blackened hand, staring at it. "I shot a Night Fury out of the sky after five months of trying. Then, I traveled through the forest on my own, and held a knife to said Night Fury - on my own. I proceeded to cut the dragon - the most dangerous dragon to ever exist in all of recorded history - out of the net I made, letting it go. Dragon proceeded to jump on me, laugh at me, then puke out a rock on me." He shuddered involuntarily. "I took the rock home - oh, by the way, the rock makes me able to share thoughts with the dragon - and then got in a fight with my father, who will probably not speak to me for about two months. I decided to hold on to the rock again, and said rock proceeded to turn into smoke, attack me with the worst pain I've ever felt - and I had my arm amputated without anthistetic - in my entire life, knock me out, and then turn me into part dragon."

He nodded once, then collapsed back on the bed. "Fuck. Not my day."

_**Hey, at least you can still move. I do wish you would stop calling it a rock, though.**_ The voice came from inside his head, and Hiccup let out a bark of a laugh before he collapsed onto his bed, the strain of the last two days hitting him like a boulder.

"Annnnnd I'm going insane. Not my day."

**(((((())))))**

**Yep, I'm alive. Barely. **

**Sorry for leaving my stories alone for so long loves :( Life sucks more than a community college cheerleading squad. **

**I will be getting to my other stories(Fractals is barely a quarter of the way done) soon(ish). I just wanted to work on B3rk first.**

**A LOT OF SHIT HAPPENED THIS CHAPTER ERMEGERD.**

**Copy+pasting shit from google docs made that wierd list thing when the Glaring happened.**

**Everything will be explained, I promise. God, this story sound so stupid when I think about it, uhg. If someone else likes it I'll continue it. But... cyborg Hiccup, who becomes 'part dragon'(Not what happened) and lives in space.**

**Yeaaaaah. Sounds stupid.**

**Cya'round!**

**-Arac**


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